


In the Ruins

by Vera (Vera_DragonMuse)



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: M/M, Post-Finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-22
Updated: 2015-09-22
Packaged: 2018-04-22 21:26:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4851068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vera_DragonMuse/pseuds/Vera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short look at Will and Hannibal after the fall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Ruins

They dance. Their wounds are clean and their bruised flesh starting to kaleidoscope into purple and blues. The wood of the half-abandoned house creaks under their socked feet. This cache of Hannibal’s isn’t the most complete or even fully remembered. One of those carved little spaces left behind by a thoughtful predator for just such an emergency. A musty first aid kit, a few changes of clothes and enough wood for a the fireplace to keep them from freezing. 

And a cd player that drew lightly on the small coughing generator. As Will drew on Hannibal’s slacks and cashmere sweater (smiling and shaking his head because, naturally, Hannibal’s spare clothes in the least of his stashes has not one but two cashmere sweaters), Hannibal ran a finger down the neglected jewel cases. 

He chooses one with Will’s favorite smile. The one that barely creases his lips, but entirely reaches his eyes. Instead of the waking strains of violin, there is the stirring of a guitar. 

It’s an old song from the raw beginnings of rock and roll. 

Hannibal’s arm extends out, his hand a flat offering that suggests the possibility of negation. Will slides his fingers over Hannibal’s palm, their callouses catching together. An arm locks around his waist, firm and possessive. It lights Will up from the inside, chasing away the last of the water’s freezing grip. 

Will isn’t much of a dancer, but he knows how to let Hannibal lead. It isn’t ambitious or smoothly done, but they move together. 

It’s all too easy to let everything else slough away. Wife. Child. Job. Chores. The near mystical power of what they can be together outshines the mundanity of Will’s old life. He had surrounded himself with the trappings of a human life like a child hiding under a blanket. The monster under the bed had been patient though. Waiting for Will to peek out and see him. To remember that under the bed was exactly where Will belonged. 

They dance. Hannibal utterly content, eyes lidded and his breath creasing Will’s cheek. 

“When I first heard this music as a child on my mother’s radio, I found it unsettling,” Hannibal’s voice curling up on Will’s shoulder. “Too chaotic and loud. Passion without direction.” 

“I didn’t listen to much music as a kid.” 

“It would have overwhelmed you.” 

“Mmm,” Will’s body ached with fatigue, he let his forehead fall onto Hannibal’s shoulder. It hardly mattered now. “This is good though.” 

“Yes,” Hannibal says, And it is a complete sentence. A complete thought.   
The music plays on. 

There’s a blanket that enfolds them, mingles their animal warmth together before the fireplace. Everything still smells faintly of the sea. Hannibal tells Will a story, something dark and wicked. Will ignores the words and loses himself in Hannibal’s cadence. 

He doesn’t dream. Or if he does, it’s only of the deep ocean as still and peaceful as eternal night. When his eyes open again, he is shocked to find that Hannibal has also slept. Is sleeping. In the golden light of dawn, face relaxed, he does not look innocent or child like. It’s as if the morning carves away the facade. In sleep, Hannibal is utterly himself, coiled and ready to strike if roused. 

The music still plays, caught on some infinite loop. 

They danced. Have danced. Will always dance. They are caught together now for good. 

Will pulls the blanket closer and tucks the cold point of his nose under Hannibal’s chin. There’s a grumble, shifting of limbs that draws him closer and no more. 

Caught and catching. Dancing.


End file.
